


Interrupted

by thefairyknight



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, First Date, Shopping, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3966694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefairyknight/pseuds/thefairyknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From this prompt on tumblr:</p>
<p>"scarlet vision. they go on a date, but it's interrupted by bad guys."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interrupted

Wanda was the one who suggested it.

They had been on various outings with one another before, of course, but usually as part of a group. It had taken Vision some time to fine-tune his appearance manipulation to the point where he could adequately mimic a human (or at least closer-to-human) look, and then longer still to master it to the point where Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff felt he could be allowed into public without supervision.

Though he was pleased at his progress, and excited by the new-found freedom it represented, he found he was nevertheless... nervous. Social situations could often be volatile and unpredictable, and the public could be fickle and erratic.

“So I’ll come with you,” Wanda suggested, when he confessed his conflicting emotions to her. “We’ll go do whatever you want, and I’ll keep an eye on the volatile public.”

She winked at him. Her casual confidence was reassuring, and somehow, the prospect of a social outing just between the two of them was even more appealing than that of a solitary venture.

“Then, it’s a date,” he replied, and Wanda’s eyes widened and her mouth twitched before she looked away, her heartbeat briefly accelerating.

“A date,” she agreed.

Vision had meant the terminology in its casual meaning, the phrase seeming an appropriate response, but based off of Wanda’s reaction, he had apparently added a romantic connotation to the context of the outing. Though, judging by her response, she was not... wholly averse to the notion.

The notion of dating him.

Or going on at least one date with him.

He felt a momentary thrill, and then the nervousness returned, and it was much, much stronger than it had been before. Perhaps he was misinterpreting things. Perhaps she was only embarrassed by the prospect presented in his word choice, and that was the source of her reaction.

It would seem he had inadvertently complicated the situation. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. A date. With Wanda. Possibly. That would require research, on a subject which presented a whole host of conflicting information and self-contradiction and subjective interpretation. All factors that made any social endeavour unfailingly complex.

He pardoned himself and phased through the floor, and spent the remainder of the day attempting to anticipate the variables presented by their outing, all possible activities or locations that could be visited during it, and the likeliest outcomes therein.

Agent Romanoff approached him at quarter past midnight.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him, standing in the rec room, staring up at him. He had positioned himself close to the ceiling in an effort to avoid detection.

“Nothing is amiss,” he assured her.

“You keep phasing through stuff. You only do that when someone’s put a twist in your panties,” she said.

Unnerving. He hadn’t realized that emotional turmoil was manifesting in a physical behaviour that had become habitual enough for his teammates to notice, but upon reviewing relevant information and memories, he realized that she was not incorrect in her assessment.

“Thank you for drawing my attention to that habit.”

“Please don’t stop,” Agent Romanoff replied. “I love the look on Rhodes’ face whenever you ghostwalk in behind him. Never gets old.”

“Colonel Rhodes has assured me that he does not find my sudden appearances unnerving.”

“Yeah, he’s lying.”

“I’m aware.”

They faltered into a brief conversation impasse, and Vision contemplated simply flying through the ceiling to escape further interrogation. It would likely only amuse Agent Romanoff, but it would also reveal the depth of his anxiousness.

“So. I heard you asked Maximoff out on a date.”

Surprise. He glanced downwards, and Agent Romanoff smirked at him.

“It was her suggestion, actually. Though I may have inadvertently redefined it,” he replies. “Where did you ‘hear’ about this?” He somehow doubted Wanda had mentioned it, but then, the Black Widow seemed to have sources of information that eluded even him at times.

“Inadvertently, huh?” she replied, ignoring his question. “So does that mean it’s all just a big embarrassing misunderstanding?”

He considered that prospect.

“I hope not,” he concluded.

Agent Romanoff’s smirk widened into a smile, free of self-satisfaction or condescension.

“So you  _want_  to date her, then?”

The prospect of pursuing a romantic relationship with Wanda Maximoff was... compelling, though he was not sure if it could be considered particularly wise.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Well, good luck,” Agent Romanoff declared. “If you have any questions, ask ‘em. Just do us all a favour and don’t ask Stark.”

He had not once considered seeking the advice of Tony Stark on this matter, and mentioned as much. Agent Romanoff nodded in approval and then, apparently satisfied, left him to his own devices.

He considered her suggestion that he seek out firsthand advice, however. That could prove useful. But, the most reasonable person to seek such advice from was Wanda, and the prospect of that somehow multiplied his nervousness even further. He found the emotion incredibly unappealing. It wasn’t quite as bad as some, but it arrested him in a state of sort of desperate inaction, and he couldn’t see the purpose of it.

In the end, he found himself reviewing articles and advice from the internet until it was time to meet Wanda and obtain a vehicle from the facility’s garage.

She was dressed nicely, but that could have been because of her perception of their outing as a romantic excursion, or because she simply wanted to look exceptionally presentable in public.

“Ready to go?” she asked him, with one eyebrow raised, and he realized he had paused to observe her, and had not yet adopted a more suitable appearance himself.

He landed, and forced his cape to disperse, and his exterior plating and skin to adopt a more flesh-like appearance. The top of his ‘outfit’ he changed to resemble a tightly-fitted shirt, and the bottom he re-textured, shortening his boots and changing the colour to a patterned off-white which vaguely resembled running shoes.

The most difficult part of the process was texturing, in truth. Shape and substance were easy. It was trying to subdue the surface qualities so that he no longer  _gleamed_  that was complex.

When he was finished, he looked at Wanda.

“Passable?” he inquired.

“You’ll do,” she told him, with a smile, and then unlocked the door of the vehicle they had reserved.

Wanda drove. Vision was confident in his ability to command a vehicle, but for some reason, his teammates seemed hesitant to allow him to attempt it after he had piloted the quinjet at what they deemed to be excessive speeds. His efforts to convince them that his enhanced processing abilities made him capable of flying at such speeds with little to no added risk did not seem to alleviate their concerns.

“So. Where to?” Wanda asked him.

“The nearest shopping center,” he replied. “I would like to acquire some clothing that would be more appropriate for casual public interactions, to simplify future outings. Then I thought we could have lunch, and perhaps see a film?”

He made certain to voice the itinerary as a suggestion, so she would not feel uncomfortable voicing any objections to it.

But she only nodded at him.

“Sounds like fun,” she decided.

The drive was fairly slow-paced, and as ever, Vision found himself pondering the inefficiency of ground travel - flight made direct routes so much more convenient - while also enjoying the opportunity to share in a common human experience. Wanda turned on the radio and flipped through various stations before turning it off again, muttering under her breath about the inaccuracies and inefficiencies of American news stations and the inadequacies of popular music.

When they finally arrived at the shopping center, they drew only a few curious stares in the parking lot. His disguise was by no means seamless enough to avoid them, but apparently sufficient to deter alarm.

Wanda looped her arm through his. Her heartbeat had accelerated slightly again.

“Ignore everyone unless you have a reason not to,” she advised.

“Most things are of interest to me,” he confessed. “What is sufficient reason to stop ignoring someone?”

Wanda shrugged. Her hair brushed his shoulder. She had left it loose.

“The obvious,” she reasoned. “Signs of trouble, danger, conflict. Or if they try to get your attention, or you need to get theirs. Otherwise, we’ll just go about our business, and let them think whatever they will.”

That seemed prudent. This wasn’t a combat scenario, after all. There was no need to be constantly on guard for threats or danger. Statistically, the odds of the shopping center being attacked were relatively low, even accounting for its proximity to the Avengers facility.

He took the precaution of reviewing a map of the area, however. That also allowed him to locate the nearest clothing retailers. As an Avenger, he was provided an allowance for personal expenses by Stark Industries. It would be more than sufficient to cover the costs of this outing, even if they exceeded is maximum estimates on expenditures by a significant amount.

“What are you thinking?” Wanda asked him.

He considered. The truth occurred to him first, naturally, but his research indicated that informing one’s date when they were tabulating the costs of the experience was... not advisable.

“I’m reviewing a map of the area in case the shopping center is attacked,” he replied, which was also true.

“That’s a good idea,” Wanda told him. “Do you think we’ll be attacked?”

“Hopefully not. That would present a significant interruption to our plans.”

She snickered, and he allowed himself to lean a little closer to her, pleased at her amusement.

The first clothing store they located specialized in women’s plus-sized clothing. They browsed through several articles, until one of the store’s employees uncomfortably asked them to leave. Vision was uncertain whether it was because of their lack of resemblance to the store’s target consumer base, or if his appearance was unsettling enough to merit their expulsion.

Wanda seemed uniformly irritated, regardless.

“Rude,” she declared, but they left without further incident.

The second clothing shop was unisex and marketed more towards teenagers and young adults. Most articles were tightly fitted in a way that would become an impediment in sudden combat situations, but the accessories were fascinating.

Wanda selected a pair of glasses from a rack.

“Black Widow has a picture of Captain America in a pair like these,” she said.

“The Captain’s vision isn’t impaired,” he noted.

“It was a disguise.”

Interesting. He didn’t think a pair of glasses would obscure enough to hinder facial recognition. Reaching out, he took the pair from Wanda, and tried them on. He didn’t note much of a change in the nearest mirror.

Wanda snickered again.

“They don’t suit you,” she declared, and instead selected a pair of large sunglasses.

They made it through two more pairs before the staff at that store also requested that they leave.

“We’re not doing any harm,” Wanda snapped, folding her arms and glowering. “We’re just  _browsing.”_

“You’re causing adisturbance. We’ve had complaints,” the store manager informed them. His gaze flickered over to Vision, and then quickly away again.

_“You are a fucking piece of shit,”_  Wanda informed him, in her native tongue, which the manager did not appear to be fluent in. Then she took his arm, and they left that store, as well.

“I suppose my disguise is still inadequate for shopping,” he surmised.

“Your disguise is fine. They’re the ones who are inadequate,” Wanda insisted. The statement wasn’t precisely sensible, but he found himself disinclined to argue the point.

Fortunately, the third store was a larger department store, slightly understaffed, and so they were left more or less to their own devices. While he examined a rack of coats, Wanda left his side and returned with her arms full of hats, scarves, ties, glasses, necklaces, and rings.

He was in the process of trying on a coat of suitable size.

She stared at him for a moment, and blinked in surprise.

“That is... very yellow,” she informed him.

It was brightly coloured. That would likely have the negative effect of drawing attention to him, but it would also make it easier for traffic to avoid him on the road, should he ever be travelling as a pedestrian on foot.

On balance, the former was probably more detrimental than the latter. He took the coat off.

“I didn’t say it looked bad!” Wanda hastened to assure him. “Do you like yellow?”

He considered that question.

“I don’t think I find any particular colour to be objectionable,” he said, and then almost immediately had to reconsider. One of the jackets in the rack was patterned in a ‘camouflage’ style, but not in the standard military colour ranges. The yellow-greens looked almost... slimy underneath the slick out coating, and the browns seemed particularly flat and, somehow, listless.

He pulled it free, and Wanda’s eyes widened.

“I stand corrected,” he said. “That is objectionable.”

Wanda let out a relieved breath.

“For a second I thought you liked it,” she said, and took it from him, holding it as if it had been poisoned before she put it back on the rack. The expression on her face implied that she would rather have burned it.

Vision selected several less-objectionable jackets while she placed several of the accessories she had brought onto him. Some she immediately removed. When she deemed something suitable, she would tap him on the shoulder, and direct his attention towards a mirror.

“What do you think?” she would ask.

“Do you think it adequately obscures the errors in my disguise?” he would ask.

After the fifth time this happened, she took hold of his arm, and squeezed it gently.

“Disguising you is not the only important thing,” she said. “You should have clothing you  _like.”_

“I do,”he replied. “I like my first outfit.”

“You should like  _all_  your outfits,” she insisted, but her expression turned thoughtful. She left again, and when she returned, she was carrying more items - most of them gold, yellow, red, or green. A majority of them were shiny, or metallic-hued. That seemed to be a popular trend in fashion.

Eventually they narrowed down their selection to an acceptable array of items, including a long green coat, a large pair of reflective sunglasses, and a yellow cap with a monkey’s face on it. Vision insisted on the last. It made Wanda smile when he wore it.

He wore those articles out of the store. The clerk seemed uncomfortable while she rang them up, but didn’t make any comments, or refuse them service.

“You look handsome,” Wanda assured him.

“That seems improbable,” he replied. “I would settle for innocuous at this point.”

“I don’t think that will ever be the case for you,” she informed him, apologetically.

She was probably correct. His Otherness was too pronounced to ever truly disguise.

His initial itinerary had included lunch at a sit-down restaurant near the shopping center, but after their lack of welcome in several of the clothing shops, he reconsidered. There was a ‘food court’ in the midst of the cluster of stores. Suitably casual for lunch, but perhaps  _too_  casual for a romantic outing.

He weighed the dilemma, and tried to determine the wisest course of action.

“Are you hungry?” he finally asked Wanda.

“Starving,” she replied. “What’s close by?”

He informed her of the food court, and was relieved when she immediately accepted it. The area was fairly busy - not enough to impede them, but enough to make their presence less remarkable. Wanda located a table for them and instructed him to ‘guard the bags’ while she went to retrieve food.

“You want anything?” she asked him, before she left.

“Perhaps a beverage?” he suggested. It would likely look strange if he simply sat and watched her eat. He had noticed that tended to make people uncomfortable as well.

With a nod, Wanda headed off.

She had barely been gone before he heard the distinctive  _whine_  of a high-powered laser discharging. In a split second, he calculated the source of the sound, the likeliest destination of the shot, and then he flew from the table and intercepted the beam.

He often found his body’s capacity for pain... distracting.

The beam struck his shoulder, and his body absorbed the impact, preventing it from cutting through the crowd, Wanda, and the building behind her. It burned, and the nerves in his arm jangled viciously, his sensors informing him of largely superficial damage and a minor displacement to the limb’s alignment, which almost immediately corrected itself.

“Vision!”

A barrier of red cut off the beam. Unfortunately, this caused it to ricochet before their assailant ceased fire. Fortunately, the ricochet only impacted the ground. The floor split and cracked.

The man who had opened fire - his weapon surprisingly small, doubtless of either HYDRA or a hybrid pirated Stark design - began to flee.

He couldn’t be allowed to. The reason for his attack, and whether or not the Avengers facility had been compromised, needed to be ascertained.

Pain was  _very_  distracting.

Even with it, however, Vision was considerably faster than an un-augmented human on foot. He forced himself up and into the air, above the crowd, which was in a panic. Before he could apprehend the man, however, he fell to his knees, clutching his head.

Red energy flashed in his eyes.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no, no, no...”

“Get out of my way!” Wanda snapped, and Vision turned and saw the crowd of panicked shoppers obey, clearing a path for her as the air fairly crackled around her.

“He has been debilitated,” he informed her.

“He  _shot_  you,” Wanda hissed, furious. There was an uncommon vehemence to her anger, unusual even for her, and it took him a moment to isolate the likeliest cause.

Of course.

Shot.

Her brother had been shot intervening in an attack as well. This had likely inspired traumatic memories.

“I am well,” he assured her.

“Your  _shoulder is still smoking,”_  she replied, which was true.

“I am not human,” he reminded her, and judged that physical contact might have a grounding effect. He clasped her shoulder with his uninjured arm. “I’ll heal.”

Wanda looked at him for a moment, and then inhaled. She made a winding gesture with her hand, and their assailant slumped, unconscious.

For a moment, there was relative silence, as the panicked shoppers seemed uncertain of how to proceed, and his shoulder gradually stopped smoking. It was primarily his new coat that was the cause of it, anyway. Which was a shame. He would have to buy another, but probably at a later date. And a different shopping facility.

Somehow he doubted they would be welcome to return to this one.

“Our date is ruined,” he noted.

Wanda jumped a little, startled, either by his words or the break in the silence. Then she snorted.

“Well. We’ll just have to go on another, then,” she declared. “Or however many it takes for us to manage it without getting shot at.”

“Practice makes perfect,” he concurred.

Then he notified the facility of their need for extraction and clean-up.


End file.
